The Outsiders 2
by goldlife
Summary: The gang tries to move on and live life normally after the events in the orginal Outsiders. They will face new problems and work through them, hopefully.


"Hey, greaser," snarled a large guy in a wine-colored sweater, " I'll bet your friend looked worse that a burnt chicken wing, huh?" It

took me a minute to realize what he was saying. He was talking about Johnny; everybody was. As the realization hit me I got so burning

mad I jumped on top of him. I was so mad I couldn't see. Nobody could talk about Johnny Cade. Nobody. Darry is always telling me

that I don't use my head, and he's right. This guy was too strong for me-I should have known that. But when it comes down to Johnny

and Dallas, I can't think that straight. Anyway, the guy had me down in about a second, and was punching the living daylights out of me.

After a minute I stopped fighting back. I was getting dizzy and couldn't catch my breath. I didn't figure he'd kill me in the middle of the

school hallway, so I wasn't too scared. I was just hurt and waiting for him to let up. Finally a bunch of his friends said they were going to

have a pickup game of football, and he left me. The whole school was always talking about what happened, and I hated it.

I don't understand how Soda can be so calm about everyone talking about Dallas and Johnny when I don't like anyone, not even the

gang, mentioning them. What I mean is, and don't take this the wrong way, but I can't stand being reminded of them. Ever. It's not like I

don't like them anymore, it just hurts too much to think about them, let alone talk about them. Being like this, all upset about them I

mean, sure makes life tough. Everywhere I go reminds me of them. I can't help it, I'd spent my whole life with them. I can hardly stand to

walk by Johnny's house at all. His mom and dad are still living there, and they recently started throwing bottles at the gang whenever one

of us walks by. I still go and play football in our vacant lot, but I can never stay there for long. I start getting real nervous and scared for

no good reason, and soon I'll be so panicked that I've got to run or else explode. Usually I'll run all get out for about half an hour before

I'm calm enough to get home. The gang never says anything about that-me running away I mean. I don't think they completely understand

why I can't handle it, but they get it some. The lot reminds them of Johnny and Dallas as well. I think that the gang remembers good times

we had there, while all I can think of is bad things.

We've taken to using the field up near the school; it's close to the DX and our houses, plus that's where Steve, TwoBit, and I always are

after school. It's not all that great though, because a lot of Soc's go to our school, and they are always around. Most of them are still

hacked off at me for the whole Bob thing. They know I wasn't the one who stabbed Bob, but since they can't get Johnny, they take it out

on me. The gang gets real angry about that sometimes. The whole situation really stinks because I can't do anything about it. It's just the

way things are. Two Bit says things will die down after a while, that people will for get about the whole thing. But I don't think they will. If

I'm still all worked over about Johnny and Dallas, I don't understand how the Soc's will ever get over Bob being killed.

"Ponyboy, get your ass over here, I don't got all day!" called an angry voice. Great, I thought. Just great. All I need right now is to deal

with Steve Randle, looking like I know I do right now. I could feel blood running down my face, and I didn't need Steve giving me a hard

time about it. I was in the cross corridor, and found I was having difficulty standing. Partway up, my chest tightened up and I fell back

down with a loud groan. I rubbed my chest for a second and then laid my head on the cool tile. I felt sick to be honest. I saw a pair of

legs pass by me and then stop suddenly. "Ponyboy?" called Steve again, questioningly. He turned in a circle, confused, before he looked

down. "Glory, what happened to you!" he exclaimed, raising his eyebrows. His face swam into view as he bent down. I started to answer

but got sick all over the floor instead. I couldn't move. Gosh, everything hurt. I stared up at Steve, bewildered. It hadn't hurt this much

earlier. Suddenly I felt something wet on my hands. "God, Ponyboy, are you okay?" demanded Steve, shaking my shoulder. I wished he

would stop, he was hurting me. I looked down at my hands and was shocked to see blood seeping through my white tee shirt. I let out a

strangled noise and looked back up at Steve with wide eyes. "Ponyboy? Ponyboy, what..." he asked in a puzzled voice, turning me over

a little. His eyes widened when he saw the blood. He shot a look at me and then slowly pried my hands away from my chest. I squeaked

in protest. "Ponyboy, man, what happened?" he asked, using a tone I'd never heard from him before. He gently pressed on my chest,

trying to feel the extent of the damage. I moaned and clenched my teeth. "Hey, I'm sorry, man. Glory, I gotta get you home." Steve said

suddenly, looking up wildly. "I'm gonna go get Two Bit so he can bring you out to the car." He stood up. I just nodded. He started to

leave, and then bent down again. He gently picked me up and laid me down near the other side of the hall. "Don't want you smellin' like

puke now, do we? You'd stink up the car. Make us all sick." He ruffled my hair and took off down the hall. I vaguely wondered why he was being so nice to me, but then the black faded in.

When I came to, I was laid out on some sort of cushion, and had a dim feeling that I was moving. Suddenly I stopped moving and heard

a screech. Two Bit's face came into view and he pushed my hair back. "I think he's waking up." said Two Bit cheerfully. Figures, I

thought. Nothing could keep Two Bit down. Well, almost nothing. "Good. Darry would've had our hides if he was still out." said Steve.

"Where are we?" I asked hoarsely. Two Bit grinned and Steve rolled his eyes. "Where at your house. C'mon, let's go." he said happily,

hopping out of the car. Steve followed suit. I just stared after them. Were they off their rockers? Did they really think I could make it to

the house myself? I guess I was still out of it, because Two Bit walked around the car and opened the door to the backseat. He lifted me

under the arms and slung me over his shoulder, laughing as Steve slammed the door behind us. My chest hurt something awful, and I

was real tired. Two Bit brought me into the bedroom and lowered me down carefully. "Now, Darry and Soda ain't home yet, and I figure

we won't bug em' with this until they get here. You okay till then?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow at me. I nodded. "So what happened

anyway?" asked Steve, entering the bedroom with rubbing alcohol, a cloth and bandages. My eyes widened at them. Alcohol stung like

crazy on a cut. Steve just gave me a hard look. "Hey, kid, you gotta deal with it. Darrel will skin us if we don't clean you up." he said

harshly, kneeling over me on the bed. I looked away as he opened the bottle. He lifted my shirt up and started rubbing. "So?" he

demanded. "What happened?" I swallowed. Even Two Bit was staring at me. "I-I picked a fight with a Soc." I said quietly, waiting for

the reaction. "What? Ponyboy, why'd you go and do a stupid thing like that?" cried Two Bit. "That ain't like you!" I just winced. Steve

could go a little easier on me. "Glory, Ponyboy, don't you ever use your head?" said Steve scornfully. That really made me mad. Steve

didn't know nothing. "He was talking trash about Johnny, so you can just shut up, Randle!" I spat angrily, closing my eyes and wincing

against the pain. There was a brief moment of silence, and it made me uncomfortable. The word _Johnny _just hung in the air. I squeezed

my eyes shut tighter, willing myself not to lose it. Steve's hand had stopped moving and lay motionless on my chest. I slowly opened my

eyes. They were both looking at me. They glanced at each other, but I didn't get much of it. Finally, Steve said, "Oh." Then he went backto cleaning out my wounds, softer this time. So softly that I fell asleep right there.

When I woke up next, I was alone. I could hear the stereo blasting from the living room, and Mickey Mouse on TV. I didn't hear

Darry though, and I thought maybe he wasn't home from work yet. I can't really tell what time it is right now. I slowly stood up, being

careful not to move too fast or breathe too deep. The door to mine and Soda's room was wide open, and everyone looked at me when I

got out of the door.

"Ponyboy! Hey, kid, I heard you got beat up some, huh?" said Soda as he stood up and slung his arm around my shoulder. He

turned his head away from the gang. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly. I just nodded. Soda didn't need to know how much I was

hurting. I'd be alright. He looked at me closely. "Are you sure?" he said uncertainly. I nodded and opened my mouth, but Steve

interrupted me. "The kid's fine, we cleaned him up good. He can take a hit." I grinned at Soda and sat down next to Two-Bit on the

floor. I just wanted to forget about the whole thing. And I'm not only talking about the fight this morning. But I knew I wouldn't be able

to. Not for a long time, anyway. It turned out I can't even forget it for a few minutes, because Soda brought it up again. "What happened

anyway?" he asked curiously. "Stupid Soc was talking-" began Two-Bit. "I just got in a fight, is all!" I said roughly, more roughly then I

meant to. Soda looked at me funny. "That ain't like you, Ponyboy. You never used to get in fights before…" Soda trailed off, still looking

at me. I went cold. "Before what?" I spat, daring them to mention anything. They all knew that if you got tough you didn't get hurt. Soda

and the gang stared at me. Just then Darry walked in the door. I looked away. I felt ashamed; I shouldn't have snapped at Soda like that.


End file.
